One Shots
by RainDropCropTop
Summary: One shots about the series. Multiple ratings, multiple genres. 8: Mortal Struggle. I'm not spoiling anything, but it's a cute little definitely high T low M type thing. Sorry about the size, but I hope you'll enjoy nonetheless!
1. Farting Problem

Just because he could, Tucker Foley did some strange things in his life. Eating until he had to visit the hospital and programming his pride and joy PDA to talk back to him in the voice of Paulina Sanchez could attest to that. But when Danny flew through his wall one afternoon, he did not expect to see his best friend lying on his bed, grunting and sweating profusely like he had just run a marathon. immediately the young half ghost's temperament flashed from playful to concerned, the happiness dying in his mind as he flew to his best friend's side.

"Tuck!" He cried, putting his ghostly hand on his quivering side. "What's going on?" Tucker just looked into those green eyes, fatigue evident on his face. He looked grim, he was about to pass out any second with the way he was acting. Danny switched to his human form, running to the door to alert his friend's parents, when he heard a strange noise, almost a whisper.

"... _A..."_ Danny twisted his head toward his friend, who looked triumphant instead of miserable. Tucker's eyes locked on Danny's again, smiling as another faint whisper rose out of seemingly nowhere.

"...B..." Danny relaxed his grip as he realized that somehow Tucker was OK, he looked so happy to contradict his flustered appearance. Tucker took in a deep breath as Danny approached his bed, his body contracting once again...

"...C...D...E..." The letters were pronounced now, and Tucker was less irritated as well, reaching his hand up and giving Danny a high five. Danny sat next to his friend and gripped the hand, offering companionship for whatever Tucker was going through. Another sharp intake...

 _"FGHIJKLMNOP" Came out of... his ass? Danny looked at his friend, then at his ass again. That outburst had most definitely come from his ass._

"Tucker, is that coming out of your ass?" He asked, holding out hope that wasn't the case. Please let it not be the case...

"Q" Tucker gave a weak smile in return.

"Really? The alphabet?"

"R"

"How do you even do that?"

"S"

"You have got to be kidding me."

"T"

"Sam would tell you to stop eating meat right about now."

"UV"

Danny slapped his hand on his face. Of course Tucker could do this. Why not?

"WX"

"Tuck, I'm going to go bleach my skull."

"Y...and...ZZZZZZZZZZZ!"


	2. Ghosts that will never be

2\. Ghosts that never came to be

"No, Ghost Child! " The hunter said to his prey, reaching out to him as he took the handle of a door in the ghost zone, green and glowing. "Don't go in that door!" Said prey yanked his head around, wasting a precious few seconds in the chase to look at the hunter.

"Since when did you of all people care about what's behind a door?" Danny asked the giant heap of metal known as Skulker, who had stopped in mid flight close enough to ring alarm bells in the young halfa's mind.

"It's kind of like the Christmas truce. We don't fight in there." He muttered, powering down his weapons and resolving himself to give up this hunt. He couldn't hunt him anymore, not after this door. Danny noticed this change and sighed in relief, as well as sending his questioning glare to the metal head of his mortal enemy.

"Why?" He said, walking on the thin ice in between their friendship. "What's behind the door?"

"You humans find dangerous things acceptable." Sometimes Skulker felt like a brutal enemy, but sometimes he felt like a father, or a guide to the ghost zone for Danny, not that he would ever admit it. Danny felt the parental vibes from the hunter, calling him close and hiding him from whatever was behind this accursed door. As he looked at it, the boy noticed that the door looked strange, like it was scaring the ghosts that haunted it. It smelled, too, rank like rotting meat that had been sitting in moldy liquid.

The hulking behemoth floated to the door almost reverently, resting his metallic glove on the handle in a way that seemed so unlike him.

"This is a part of the ghost zone that we hold in both disgust and reverence. The spirits here never deserved to die like this." He sighed in defeat. "Every ghost needs to visit here at least once, I just never thought I'd be the one to show you, ghost child." He shuddered slightly, the strange metallic body releasing pressure as the helmet's face opened. A tiny green ghost appeared inside, the real skulker, and he leaped out, sending Danny a strangely sad look as he flew to the handle his glove was on.

"I can't go in there with the suit." He muttered, large voice booming inside the tiny being. He opened the door, releasing a cloud of disgusting air that made Danny wheeze.

The hallway inside looked like hell, if there could be one in the zone. The walls were made of flesh, blood and various organs dripping from every corner of the room. The flesh was covered in medical instruments, with grisly scalpels and foreseps were that were sticking out of the river of blood. That alone would have made Danny wretch, but the ghosts...

They were small, shriveled carcasses, cut open and dismembered, missing entrails that were nowhere to be seen. Most were just floating, in too many pieces to recognize as an organism, but some were almost whole, caught in some kind of limbo between whole and broken. Some resembled infants, but others were malformed specks floating in a cycle of endless pain.

Skulker floated in, leading the shivering child (he was just a child, this was a bad idea), and gingerly came down the hall until there was a giant wall made of pulsating flesh. He pressed his ghastly, tiny hand to it, and the duo watched (Danny in horror) as it started to morph and shrink until a passage opened up for them to go through.

The room that followed was nothing Danny could envision.

The sad ghosts were everywhere, seemingly infinite, in silent torture as they floated eternally. There was a giant fleshy flap in the floor, opening and pulsating as more malformed souls were spat out in a cascade of blood. Skulker looked sadly to the boy next to him, who had sunk to the floor, hyperventilating as the creatures passed the two.

"W-w-ha-tttt" He managed to sputter out, eyes darting out to the blood, the tools, the bodies... it was a lot to take in.

"This is the room of the ones who don't make it out of the womb." The green ghost said. "They were never recognized as human, were never put to rest, so they suffer." He paused for a minute, then managed to blurt out of... was that a tear? Was he crying?

"I was one of these. I still am."


	3. COLD

The calm skyline of Amity Park was receding into night, and the pleasant people of the city were returning to their homes from a honest day's work in the dead of winter. Snow drifted down to the earth, gently caressing the frostbitten grass it kissed. All of the humans were bundled up tightly, running to their homes as they were chased by dusk and frost, but there was one who loved the cold. Frolicked in it, even.

Danny shivered in excitement as he watched the snow fall. He traced the little flakes on his window, even making his own on the inside of the pane, almost jumping with the pent up energy the cold gave him. After Frostbite showed him how to use his ice powers _and oh my god he had_ _ **ice powers**_ , he received so much power from days like this it drived him crazy.

Taking the risk of going out early, he changed formes, taking delight in how wonderful it felt to be free. The rings faded with a flash, leaving a floating white haired specter rather than an average freshman in high school. He phased through the door, feeling the first flakes as he rematerialised outside. It felt so good to be alive. Dead. Whatever he was, he didn't care.

Danny was one with the sky, one with the cold, and he felt one with himself as he landed in the old park in the middle of the city, completely deserted because of the weather, choosing to sit in one of the ancient wooden swings that always felt like they were doing to fall apart under the weight of a human.

' _Humans,'_ he thought, ' _so fragile and yet so destructive-'_ Danny interrupted himself. It was the power talking, trying to take over his mind. He just needed to focus… He was HUMAN, not GHOST. Today was a happy day, not a time to tackle his demons. Not today. Danny centered himself, forcing himself to sit, _not float,_ on the swing. To start to move his feet in tandem with one another, to rock back and forth in such a _normal_ activity. He was a _normal_ kid, regardless of the sense of euphoria that the chilly weather, and he was going to enjoy his snow, damnit.

And enjoy it he did, using his newfound love of ice to shape and mold miniature spacecraft in the snow. He even made a shuttle that was the size of the entire big toy. ' _See?'_ He said to himself, _'I'm so happy, I could do this forever.'_ He took in the frigid air, perfectly relaxed and content to sit in his creation and watch the snowfall.

He was so content, he never noticed the pair in jumpsuits, prowling among the pines that lined the clearing he was in. The one in blue held a large capture device, the one in orange was backing her up with a tracker. Despite their quirks, Maddie and Jack Fenton were deadly serious about their jobs, not making a sound as they came closer to their prey.

Maddie aimed through the window of the snow creation, locking on the the ghost's forehead. She paused, a slight hesitation as she realised how _peaceful_ Phantom was, how _nice_ it must feel to be alone in the snow as a being that thrives in the cold. The hesitation faded as fast as it came, though, and she fired her weapon at her target.

Danny noticed the net too slowly, not expecting an attack. It nailed him, and covered in blood blossom nectar and thorns, brought him in a field of pain. He didn't register his screaming until his throat was sore and his parents, _his parents,_ were standing over him. His father grabbed the net that he was tangled and thrashing in, hauling him through the snow to what was most likely the RV.

He struggled, trying to get his mouth to do anything but scream as the horrible plant burned it's way into his skin, leaving large gaping sores that oozed ectoplasm. He wanted to do something, _anything_ to get out, but his body was being eaten alive and it burned with red smoke. When the RV came into his warped vision, he was filled with renewed terror, and tried to talk, but couldn't. He was going to die. No one was going to know. _HE WAS GOING TO DIE-_

There was a moment, a spark not unlike earlier on the swing, when Danny's mind _lurched_ and became something else. Then he only saw glimpses, fragments.

\- _Foolish mortals-_

The net ripping

- _You have no right to imprison a being like me-_

Screaming

- _You don't know what you're dealing with-_

Blood on the snow

- _Time to pay the price-_

Nothing.

The first thing Danny felt was cold. It wasn't the welcoming energy that he loved so dearly, it was the deep chill that rests in the bottom of your soul, threatening to rip it out of you.

The second thing he saw were the corpses.


	4. Blood of the Lamb

He loved to play. It was a pleasure and a joy only amplified by the age he was. Pirate ships, rocket ships, and even western scenes all played out in his mind with the simple wave of his hand, and it made him so happy. But then he heard the crashing of glass and the slam of the door. He ran for his life to the closet, closing the worn wooden door as fast and as quietly as he could, desperately trying to hold the pounding of his heart to stop the thrumming in his brain and his self… but the large, intimidating man found him anyway, crashing into the attic and stomping on the small toys he himself had made. He yelled with his large, intimidating voice, ripping apart the drawers and flinging splinters on the ground.

In his closet he had only one friend with him, the little bird he held in his arms, his first toy, his first friend, the one he clung to with white knuckles as the huge man ripped open the door.

"You fucking waste of space!" The man roared, grabbing the boy by his left hand and dragging him down the stairs. He started to cry, holding the toy in his other hand close.

"Why don't you fucking die!" The man yelled, turning into the kitchen and pulling out a cleaver.

Then it was painpainpain and his hand was lying on the counter in front of him, and he couldn't feel but all he could do was look into that man's eyes, and then to his prized toy.

The man grabbed it too, wrenching it out of his hand and cutting it apart. He wanted his toy back, his mother back, he wanted to have fun again.

The boy could remember tears, but the rest was… dark, fading, gone.

He woke up in a room covered in clocks. Fingers still covering the bird, he didn't know why it was important, but it was, he stood in the strange room, noticing the glowing green portal, the medals hung on the wall, and the strange man that looked at him. The man- whoa.

When his attention turned to the thing standing and looking at the portal, the man suddenly aged, growing wrinkled and old. It had blue skin, _BLUE SKIN,_ and walk- no _floated_ towards him, regarding him with interest. He had a clock embedded in his chest, and it freaked the kid out.

"Where am I?" He asked, startled at the strange eerie quality his voice had. "What are you?"

"I am Clockwork," He said, growing startlingly young before his eyes. "This is my domain. And I should ask you the same questions," Growing to a twenty something man, he put his blue glowing hand on his shoulder. "Why are you here?"

"I-" He said, not remembering his name. He couldn't remember anything. "I don't know."

The man's face changed again, old now, and he regarded the child in front of him with newfound interest.

"You must have somehow started here, and not in your own realm…" He started talking again, looking into the glowing green screen and back. "Do you remember a feeling? Like a part of yourself dying?" The boy shook his head no. " Well, you need to know, you're dead."

The vague memory of his hand came into his mind, and he looked down to find his hand… gone. He shrieked, stepping back and whimpering pitifully.

"No…" He said, refusing to believe that nightmare happened. He was ok, he was just dreaming and he could play when he got up. "Daddy would never…" He felt the tears, just like last time, he felt the blood going down- He gasped as a strange green goop dripped out of his arm, and he screamed as the pain flooded back into his soul. There was nothing but the pain, and oh god his hand wasn't there, and the man, Clockwork, had him in his arms, floating around until he was set down on a bed somewhere, and he took off. All the boy could do was cry and hold his arm, whimpering as he took shuddered breaths that weren't really breaths _oh god he was dead_

Clockwork had gone as fast as he could to find what he had in his arms. He carried it to the room he had put the new ghost in, who was an enigma, really. He formed _outside time?_

The boy had gone into shock, detached from what was happening, so doing surgery was the only hope he had. The metal fit nicely, and Clockwork vowed to teach the boy how to use the thing properly before he could find a lair. It was only a thick metal rod at the time, but he could learn how to control it, bend it to his will.

The man floated back to the chamber, happening on the stuffed bird the boy had been holding. A memory of a toy, perhaps? He must have died wishing for happiness. Clockwork retained his usual composure. "All is as it should be." He said, looking into his portal. That man would have done worse…

The boy woke up the next day, screaming over his patched up arm. Clockwork was in there, well, in clockwork. The boy's expression softened at his presence, realising that he had been saved by the older one.

"Thanks." He said softly. "Sorry I got carried away, I just-"

"No need," The man, thank god he was staying one age, replied. "All is as it should be in the great expanse of time." He reached in his cloak, pulling out a stuffed bird which lit up the boy's face.

"My bird!" He yelled, all pain physical and emotional flooding off his face. The bird, much to his (and Clockwork's) surprise, became lifelike in Clockwork's hand, lifting it's head to look at the boy with bright green eyes. The fluff and stuffing seemed to evaporate off of it, revealing a skeleton of a bird inside. Regardless of how it might seem, the bird took flight across the room, landing on the boy's metal rod.

"Hello, Youngblood." It said in a cranky yet caring voice. "Are you ready to play today?" The boy's face lit up.

"Is that my name?" He said excitedly. "Do you know who I am?" The bird nodded, black pupils focused on the boy's face.

"That's always what you called yourself when we played together."

"You hear that, Mr. Clockwork?" Youngblood said, positively beaming at the man in the doorway like he had just heard the greatest news in the world. "I have a name!" The bird seemed to flinch at the giggles and the squeals, but he didn't voice it, wanting to bring happiness to him.

And happiness he had, until he passed out on the floor from exhaustion. Clockwork picked him off the floor, going up the stairs, watching the skeletal bird fly next to him. He tucked the young child in the bed, nodding to the bird. The bird sat on the headboard, sitting like a gargoyle as the child slept, truly happy, for the first time.


	5. Blossoms

(AN: My take on the blood blossom horror story. I can't have enough of this. Pre knowledge of Blood Blossoms, but Jazz knows and she hasn't told Danny. If this isn't in cannon order sue me.)

Regardless of the strangeness of it, Danny used to love his parent's cooking. It was so normal to sit at the table and eat whatever strange concoctions they brought from the lab to the kitchen, some were gross, but they were always made with love and security in mind.

That all changed when he got his powers.

When dinner rolled around, he had to watch his back, unsure of how his ghost side would take the meal. Sometimes it was just a stomachache, or a slight burning sensation down his throat, but sometimes he was covered in a fog, feeling sick and coming down with the ghost equivalent of a fever. It was terrible, but he wasn't going to forgo one of the only normal things in his life, and he wasn't going to let his parents down.

Even when the strange pie was smoking red fumes that stung his throat by just being near it sat in front of him.

"Do I have to eat it?" He asked, coughing and rubbing his neck, looking at Jazz with an expression his mother couldn't read.

"Sweetie," She said with a frown, "this is a very old Fenton recipe, it's been used for generations. Just give it a try, ok?"

Something inside Danny knew this was dangerous, a different kind of danger than anything else he had eaten before. The pie terrified him. His inner ghost practically screamed when he took a pile of the blood red concoction, and he felt it literally singe his lips as it neared them. It took all of his willpower to not tell his mom and take a bite. But he did anyways, forcing himself to ignore the horrifying pain as it blistered his throat. He just had to keep up the illusion… forever. As long as it took. He was too distracted by the pain to notice the gurgling noises coming out of his mouth, or the way his family looked at him, worried.

The pain was horrible, and he could feel it as it went down, like sending a searing knife that carved his insides... then it hit _something_ and _burst._ Danny wasn't in control anymore, shedding his human form against his will, sinking through the chair and vomiting as the pain hit his core. His parents hesitated, looking at the ghost in front of them, but Jazz didn't hesitate.

Tears flowed out of his eyes as his sister lifted him into her arms, holding him close as she ran to the lab with parents in tow. He could still feel the pain, but it had gone past whatever it had touched and moved on to ripping his stomach apart. Black spots danced in his vision.

Jazz set Danny down on an exam table in the lab, grabbing every kind of first aid she could and calling Sam and Tucker. Both of Danny's friends were horrified to hear what had happened, Sam in particular had some very choice words to say, but both were coming. Good.

Danny was still semi conscious, trying to move his arms as the pain roiled through his body. Jazz grabbed his hand, concerned because he was peering at her and asking who she was, but she got a tissue and wiped the vomit (which burned through the thin paper) off his face. Danny smiled up at her, despite the pain, then passed out, reverting back to his human form.

Jack had run down the stairs at this point, and, thankful that Jazz brought all the right equipment there, started to save his son. Maddie came down seconds later, mind reeling harder than her husband's at the revelation she was just given. Her husband was pumping her son's stomach. _her son. Her son, the ghost._ Maddie shook her head. This was an emergency, and ghost or not, she had to save her son from herself.

When Sam and Tucker came running in the basement, Danny was stabilised, sleeping on the table with no signs of distress. HIs family was looking at him, sadly, when they noticed the teens.

"Oh, It's you." Maddie said, rubbing Danny's hair. "I guess you knew, you were closer to him than anything else, huh? Even his family." Tucker nodded in defeat. Jazz knew, somehow, but she was never told the story.

"Mrs. Fenton," He started, then looked at Jack, who was uncharacteristically silent, muttering 'molecule by molecule' under his breath. "Mr. Fenton, I-" He looked at Sam- "Uh, we, have something to tell you." The air itself seemed to stop, the only sound in the room being Danny's quiet snoring. The family nodded, expectant look on their faces.

"It all started with the ghost portal…"

Danny woke up to a sharp pain in his chest. It was to be expected, after _that…_ He jumped out of the sheets, realising that it wasn't a dream. The pain was too real, and he had _gone ghost_ in front of his family. He stared at his hands, bringing them to his face. This couldn't be happening. He switched to his ghost form, needing to get a flight in, but then he saw...

The pain was harsh, and he admitted he had gone too long. He admitted when he was beat.

Something he wouldn't admit was that a sob rocked his body.

Maddie Fenton was smart, but not people smart. What she had witnessed was something outside the realms of science, but her son came first. She was going to ignore anything for his sake, just like right now, when she walked up the stairs and put her hand on the door. Only to hear a small sob from the other side. Maddie opened the door to find her son, crouched on the ground and holding his heart, sobbing. He looked at her with wide, fearful eyes _because they said they would rip me apart and who would love a monster like me,_ for a few restless seconds, until he _disappeared, halfway sinking through the floor._

"Danny!" She screamed, not willing to stand for losing her son again today. "Danny come back here!" He obliged out of habit, popping his head up out of the floorboards and scaring the living daylights out of her. His face was still puffy and red, and tear tracts lined his cheeks.

"Oh," He whispered, his voice cracking. "I just, uh," He came out of the floor as phantom, floating above it and still clutching his chest. "I don't want you to hate me, but I don't want you to worry either, and it hurts." He removed his hand from his heart to show a deep, bleeding wound just over his core, still visible and pulsing through the green fluid leaking out of it. THat was when her science smart took over, running through possible treatment for her baby boy standing in front of her.

Maddie gasped, something she admitted she had done too much lately, running to her son and inspecting the wound. It looked burned from the inside out, due to the blossoms. Leading her son down the stairs to the lab to get it properly bandaged, much to his relief, Maddie Fenton swore she would never let those awful plants inside her house ever again.


	6. Toys and Clocks: Lessons

"A ghost formed INSIDE your domain?" The observer was borderline delirious when he heard Clockwork's story. The glob with one eye was currently racing among piles of paperwork, grabbing and looking them over in a state skin to panic as Clockwork casually watched from the sidelines. The observer's domain was a huge center of bureaucracy, with hundreds of the green clothed globs wandering the halls and doing the paperwork of the universe. Clockwork had always been annoyed with them, but when he needed information, the observers normally had it.

Only this time, the observers, the all seeing eyes of the universe, were blindsided. Hard.

"How could this happen?" It asked the lord of time, who simply shrugged and turned into baby. "The ghost could have just broken in, right? Tricking you with malicious intent?"

"No," Clockwork stated, looking at his staff. "I looked into my pool and it showed the ghost clearly forming. He had no idea who or what he was, normal for formation." The observer looked clearly pissed, crossing his arms in some kind of angry protest at the mere fact that the observers didn't know something. Clockwork simply laughed at the sight and left, deciding he would have to get information elsewhere.

"But where?" He said for himself, looking into his pool of time and 'seeing all' and still getting no answers. There was this fog around Youngblood, like there was no time where the ghost could exist. 'No time…' Clockwork had to rub his temple at the concept. A ghost that formed like him was impossible, but him? He had formed here, he had made this lair ages ago and outside of time. It was a sore subject, but he would have to ask Youngblood if he remembered if he remembered anything after his rest. If there was _Anything_ he could use to get some kind of information.

"Mr. Clockwork!" He heard a voice some time after he had started to work, looking up from his time portal to see the child ghost fly down the stairs, bird flying next to him. "I can fly! Did you know that?"

"Hello, child." Clockwork said calmly back, putting his hand on kid's head. "You're a ghost, and we can all fly." Youngblood's eyes got wide. He looked at his glowing green features, the bird who was literally a skeleton peering at him through strange bony holes. His arm, which he took in with great alarm.

"I'm a ghost, right." The child muttered, put out. Clockwork put his other hand on Youngblood's arm, smiling gently as the kid looked up at him.

"Being a ghost isn't that bad, you know. We have powers." He said with a flourish of his hand, making the young face light up with the joy that fit it so well.

"What kind of powers?"

"Oh, we have all kinds." Clockwork elaborated. "I have mastered them, and you can as well, with practice." If it was possible, Youngblood's face got giddier.

"OOH, SHOW ME!" He yelled, pumping his fists. The bird smacked him on the head, muttering something about 'enthusiasm' and 'control'. Clockwork merely nodded, floating up in the air and gathering energy that glowed a neon blue in his hand.

"This is ecto energy, as named by ghost hunting humans, who ironically got it from time travelling ghosts. One of the more interesting paradoxes, really." Clockwork began, noticing the kid below him already had his eyes glossed over. "The manifestation of the energy is a result of the buildup of excess energy already generated in your-" He looked down now, floating down and dispersing the energy as he realised Youngblood wasn't listening. He waved the same hand in front of his face, streaking blue energy that dispersed through the air.

"Youngblood," He cooed, "Wake u~p." The ghost startled to attention, focusing his attention on the time lord.

"Whoa, what is that on your hand?" He said, tracing the blue mist with his own green hands.

"If you paid attention, you would know."

"Oh, well if you weren't so boring, I guess I would." Clockwork exhaled loudly,slapping his hand to his forehead, and started to drift toward his portal, leaving the young ghost in his thoughts. But then he was interrupted by a tiny hand on his wispy tail.

"Um," Youngblood said, "If I try really hard and pay really _really_ close attention, because I'm really _really_ sorry, can you show me the cool ghost energy thing again?" Clockwork couldn't resist the face the boy was giving him, and put his hand back on his shoulder with the same glowing energy. It radiated heat and made Youngblood extremely uncomfortable.

Still, Clockwork maintained the smile, so sickeningly sweet, and squeezed Youngblood's Shoulder slightly. "One rule. No dosing off in the middle of my lectures. Is that clear?" The child quickly nodded his head, saluting with his peg metal hand. Clockwork noted to look into military kids for the blur that Youngblood produced in the time stream.

"Your energy flows through your core," Clockwork said to the young ghost, who now consciously fought his boredom to learn. "It stores in your 'body' and you can utilise it to it's fullest if you concentrate." His hand lit up again with the blue energy. "Try it yourself, young one, feel your energy flowing within you."

Youngblood closed his eyes in concentration, his body shuddering slightly as he looked inside himself, looked for his core...

Clockwork was delighted to see the kid start to glow brighter than usual mere seconds after he tried to reach his core. 'He is truly talented,' He thought to himself as Youngblood gathered the energy into his hands a few seconds after. 'not many ghosts can access that energy a day after formation, just the gifted ones. He is definitely qualified…'

The energy in youngblood's remaining hand gathered into a ball, and he cracked his eyes open to see it, his face transforming into pure joy after he noticed what he had done.

"Mr. Clockwork!" He almost yelled, stretching his hand out to the older ghost, "I did it!" Clockwork was indeed proud of him, and reached his hand out to pat him on the head, but when he did… The energy released from the child's hand, flinging him into the wall. Clocks cascaded onto Clockwork as he hit the solid surface, burying him in seconds. Youngblood hurried over to him, and his bird picked up the staff that had somehow left his hands during impact.

"Oh, no!" Youngblood yelled, digging through the clocks, "Clockwork got buried by his own time! The irony!" Clockwork emerged from the pile of now broken clocks, looking at them somberly and grabbing his staff from the skeletal bird. "Sorry, Mr. Clockwork," Youngblood said to the man holding a particularly ornate clock that had now been broken into pieces. "I didn't mean to do it, honest." Clockwork turned his attention to the child, letting the clock fall to the ground.

"All you need is practice, Youngblood." He said to the ghost now looking at him with slightly tearful eyes, "And I will be more than willing to give that to you."

More lessons began soon after, and Youngblood caught on quickly with the actions more than the words. Every morning the young ghost would rush out of the room the time ghost had graciously given him to stay in, meeting his master and learning his skills. His peghand remained, though, until Clockwork addressed it one day, pointing to the useless metal rod sticking out of his arm.

"I can use this?" Youngblood remarked, waving around the peg. "What can I even do with it, roast meat?" Clockwork shook his head, taking one last look at his time portal to take a break and spend time with his new charge.

"You can change it's shape." He said, holding the metal rod, only a few inches long and protruding out of the stump his arm. "All you have to do is direct energy into it with a clear picture of what you want it to turn to in your mind, and then it will obey you."

Youngblood looked at the metal in amazement, forcing himself to contain himself and concentrate. He pictured the rod bending different ways and becoming a hand, spreading one end out into five… And Clockwork gasped,causing the whole process to fail and Youngblood's eyes to dart open. "What happened?" He asked, looking at the old ghost who never grasped in his afterlife.

The ghost in question was looking incredulously at Youngblood's 'toy', as they called it, who had formed into some kind of skeleton hand and was now twitching on the floor.

"So it is controlled by your mind as well," Clockwork said, baffled, not taking his eyes off the hand on the floor. "I wondered why the bird seemed to have a separate consciousness, but maybe it was fuel by your obsession, yes, that-" The time ghost was interrupted by the sound of Youngbood's delighted scream, and looked in relief to see him with two hands. One was metal, but both were functional, and the kid was crying at the sight.

"Hands," He cried between sobs, "Clockwork, I have HANDS," Clockwork simply gave his charge a hug barely stopping the chuckle that was ripped from his throat as he felt both sets of fingers hold him back.

"My boy," He said, petting his hair, "You are truly a talented ghost."


	7. Lightening

The Fentons were never afraid of electricity. They basically lived off of it, they protected their society from the ghostly menace using the weapons that science and their wit brought them. Even the children were used to the arching and sparking that the family dealt with on a daily basis.

So it was kind of disturbing for Jazmine Fenton to hear panicked whimpers while she was studying during a thunderstorm at 2:30 in the morning. She barely registered it, actually, and thought it was her imagination, but then she heard it _again, soft and choked,_ and she almost sprinted out her door.

The hallway was dark and motionless as she stepped out into it, the only sounds that littered the place were the constant patter of rain on the roof and the thunder, followed almost immediately by another of the little whimpers. As Jazz approached Danny's room, they got clearer, and she could hear the bed shifting in little creaks as she opened the door.

"Danny?" she whispered as she poked her head in the pitch black room. Jazz couldn't see anything, and the noises stopped when she talked. "Are you-" She was cut off by an especially strong bolt that hit dangerously close to the window, bringing a flash of light into the room. Danny almost screamed, prompting Jazz to look at the bed in the instant it was lit up.

And that's when she saw her brother.

He was curled up in the fetal position around his pillow, nearly squeezing it to death. She couldn't see his face, but she heard _sobs,_ and his body was trembling furiously in the dark.

"Danny!" Jazz fought back talking, whispering in worry as she made it to his side. He let out a small sob as she addressed him, scrunching further into himself when she set a small hand onto his back. "Danny, what's wrong?" Another force of nature hit outside, and Danny _jumped_ , squealing and hugging his sister. Jazz jumped at the sudden movement, but relaxed, putting her hands around her younger brother. He was shaking and his tears were quickly soaking her shirt.

"Danny," Jazz said, petting his sweat soaked head, "Can you look at me?" Danny lifted his head jerkily at his sister, fixing his eyes on her's. They were panicked, wide and leaking tears. He let out several fast, shaky sobs.

She knew he was afraid, but not of thunder. This was new, and he looked terrified. Another burst of lightening, and he flipped his head down into her arms, letting out a choked cry. She could have sworn his eyes _glowed_ when the sound hit, and she hugged him tightly, rubbing circles into his back, which suddenly turned _cold._

 _"It hurt so bad."_ He sobbed, and the words were almost indistinguishable from the short breaths. He leaned closer into his "It was so painful and it wouldn't stop..." Jazz thought she could figure this out, but the words he said had just turned her trail cold. He was displaying symptoms of PTSD, wasn't he? But why? He said it was painful, but he hadn't been struck by lightening before...

Another strike, and Danny almost shrieked, jumping in the sequence that sadly repeated itself. Jazz moved to pull him back to her, but her hands _went through him._ She was sure she had imagined the eyes and the temperature, but this... She was sure he somehow tuned intangible.

A second later, Danny had reappeared in her lap, but the damage was done.

"Danny," Jazz brushed her hands through his _now frozen_ hair, the crystals of ice melting in seconds on her hands. Yep, something was definitely wrong with her brother. "Danny, come on, please tell me what's going on."

Danny's breath hitched when she talked to him this time, and he yelped, jumping out of her lap and running to the nearest wall. "No,no,no,no..." He muttered, covering his crimson face with his hands, "Oh god, no," The next lightening bolt. He broke down completely, sliding down the wall to the floor, where he made himself into the tightest ball he could muster. On the floor, his form seemed to waver and his hair blanched several shades lighter before returning to it's ebony hue.

It was at that moment Jazz had realized Danny was hiding something big, maybe even bigger than what she could handle, but that didn't stop her from sitting down to resume her position as the big sister pillow.


	8. Mortal Struggle

She didn't know what they were, or who they were.

Were they even alive?

Pumping, straining shoulder blades held up rancorous claws. They were wet, covered in some strange, red liquid that kissed the bony weapons as it fell.

Yes, they were alive. And the metallic taste filling the large gaping nostrils of their nose. It was intoxicating, dripping and squelching in between scales as they

-no, she, she was a she, she was the princess, she shouldn't be doing this-

sunk their body into the warm, slimy pile of remains beneath their feet. Popping and squeaking freed their ways out of the pile, worming as the hopeless sounds escaped.

A curious snout found it's way around a twitching hunk of flesh, digging in and freeing the meat from the bone as the prey continued to scream. Masculine, and it cried harder as they snapped the bone after it was cleaned.

The taste was greater than any grand feast, and the creature continued to feed.

The necklace continued to glow sickly after the meat was gone.

They - she - they were tiring of their host.

The host grew weaker as it breathed among the piles of bones, cracked and ground into the musty earth. Crimson still stained the walls as the host cried out in starvation.

They knew there wasn't that much time for them to get rid of her before she took over.

Chains of gold tightened around the emaciated neck of the beast, raking off filthy aqua scales as they cut off her air.


End file.
